Choke the Chicken, Bash the Bishop, Flick the Bean, and Diddle the Skittle!

Living here in the United States of Taboo some topics tend to be unmentionable. Let’s focus on just one of the many illicit topics, one called masturbation. Ahhhh! Yes, I just said masturbation; did you feel uncomfortable when you read it? If so, close the screen now because unpleasant sentences are about to stretch out of your screen, breach your eyes, and climb up to the Limbic System of your brain creating that emotion.

First and foremost, masturbation does not make you blind! If this were the case about 94% of men aged 25-29 and about 85% of women of the same age would be not be able to see. Another famous one is that it causes hair to grow on your palms, and frankly if that were true, I would be wearing gloves right now.

Much of the taboo that encircles masturbation is caused by our societal norms and religion with its repression on sexuality. The church wants you to have kids so they have more followers. They would rather you not waste your seed but to plant it in a woman, so it can grow into a subservient tree growing fruit for the church.

We by nature are sexual beings; fighting against that can have negative effects on a person. Exploring your body is extremely healthy:

I know it’s boiling in you, temperatures are rising but you want to suppress it. Lying in your bed of guilt you fight the temptation, but you can’t control it anymore. Your fingers begin to wander, skipping the breast entirely, jumping over the belly button, going lower and lower, when finally you make contact with your lace panties. But your fingers stop, they rest along your vegetation.

The Jesus cross on your wall is watching you, glaring feelings of judgement. You look away in contempt. Your legs part ways, and your fingers take control over you; they descend further and further arriving at the foundation of life. They are curious; they are in unknown territories, on a voyage of discovery. They glide softly down appreciating the soft slippery textures and glide back up, repeating over and over again.

They enter the portal to bliss, thrusting violently. Thrusting up. Thrusting down. Thrusting forward. Thrusting backwards. One finger detours, finding a silky like button. The tip of the finger dances atop of it, twirling in joy. You gasp, gasp, and gasp some more; gasps of pleasure, gasps of shock, and gasps of guilt.

Hormones march to the front line, killing all rationality and care. Pure animalistic nature takes over; ecstasy, ecstasy, rapture! Inner thighs are drenched; your panties jumped into the water, your fingers were rained on. Your legs begin to tremor, your toes stare up at the ceiling, while the sweat collides with your skin; your orgasm is an earthquake.

Taboo was winning for 19 years until this night, the night your bodily instincts conquered the Pope, the church, and your parents.

Go ahead touch yourself…… you know you want to.

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I love Pinterest spend a lot of time there (my favorites are repecis which I really do make and ideas for school). I spend a lot of time on Facebook connecting with people from so many parts of my life, including people I haven’t seen in years. In a way, that is a good witnessing tool (but not an in your face kind). I love Draw Something and Words with Friends. I do those when I hop on the elliptical. And I confess I am a complete Lockup (reality show about prison) junkie not sure why. I think it all intrigues me (from a human perspective, not that I am a criminal in disguise). Oh, and blogging, though I am not always good about doing it faithfully